The Search for the Sigil
by Alasse Greyhame
Summary: Macbeth and Indiana Jones are after the same prize. Who will win? Read to find out.


The Search for the Sigil

_Macbeth belongs to Greg Wiseman. Indiana Jones belongs to George Lucas, George Spielberg (sorry if I spelled that wrong) and whoever else owns Indy. It isn't me more's the pity. I'm making no money from this so please don't sue._

The man sighed, rubbed his eyes, stood and stretched this book was old he was extremely lucky to have found it in the first place it had been buried amongst other books in the museum's basement. He wondered why Marcus had never had them looked after properly but then that was Marcus his mind always focused on something else the next acquisition. He sighed again speaking of that acquisition what he had found in the book would be a good one. The Sigil of Clan Moray which had belonged to Macbeth the Ard Ri of Scotland.

"Indy?! Doctor Jones? Where are you for heaven's sake Indiana?" Marcus called

"Back here Marcus. Come see what I found." Indiana called

"What? Ouch! Blast! What stupid idiot left that horse shoe there? Ah yes, here you are Indiana what have you found?"

"This."

"Indiana." Marcus sighed "That's a book."

"I **know** it's a book, Marcus. Read the page."

Marcus did so and as he read further his eyes began to get the look that Indy knew so well the feverish gleam and the dollar signs in Marcus' pupils at the grant money they could receive. Indy knew that look it meant Marcus would ask him to go for the Sigil.

He had already read the book and he thought it was funny that the Sigil was not in Scotland or England for that matter it was a pity he thought he would have liked to visit his father's homeland but no he was going to Brazil instead. Ugh, he still had bad memories from the last time he had visited South America. But for the Sigil he would go. He had always thought that Shakespeare's play had Macbeth wrong from the little he had researched that period (as it was definitely more his father's area than his) the Macbeth he had seen was a good man who cared more for his people and his country than the kings that had followed him. In fact to him it had seemed odd that Macbeth was the only Scottish king to be mentioned in church papers. There were also mentions of weird magic the chronicles mentioned demons and gargoyles. Gargoyles? That was odd what would stone creatures meant to chase away evil spirits have to do with magic. He slapped his head stupid he had forgotten to write down the precise directions to the temple where the Sigil was supposed to be. He turned to go back to the basement.

_Meanwhile…_

Macbeth smiled as he read the paper. Normally, this somewhat obscure American history journal was not worth more the cursory glance but this time it was worth it. It mentioned a treasure he'd thought lost forever _**his Sigil. **_He would have to make a trip to America. He would have what was his again.

_Back to the basement…_

Darn you Marcus! Indy thought Where did you put that book? He'd searched the basement five times. Damn! No one had moved that horse shoe. He'd definitely be feeling that later. Idiot! He remembered now Marcus had moved the book to the Scholar's Room that meant it was at the opposite end of the museum and three floors up and he had to be in his class room in twelve minutes. Indy sighed the directions he wanted would have to wait until later.

_On the third floor…_

Oh yes this was worth the stuffy airplane ride. Here in excellent detail he would find his sigil. This temple was in Brazil he was pretty sure it would be guarded as well as booby trapped but those excursions to Egypt had been worth something at least. He reread the last page again he memorized it but it never hurt to be cautious. Thank God he had been blessed with a photographic memory and of course it didn't hurt to be immortal and have time to learn what he needed. But he had been here long enough and it was time to go he also heard footsteps approaching. He turned and began making his way out the door when…

Oomph! What in the world? Who had put a wall here?

"Hpmmmh! Americans always in a hurry, I would hope that you do not make a habit of this."

"What?"

"Running around museums and falling into people."

"Well my falling into you didn't affect you too much."

The man chuckled and said, "I've had much more practice at staying on my feet. And now if you don't mind I'm late."

Indy watched the man walk away he wasn't sure be thought he'd heard a Scottish burr in the big man's carefully spoken English. He saw Marcus and waved to him. When Marcus reached him Indy asked, "Who was that guy?"

Marcus looked bewildered and asked, "What man?"

Indy rolled his eyes and pointed at the swiftly retreating figure, "That guy. You know the big man dressed in the grey suit. I thought only visiting academics were allowed up here and that guy doesn't look like any professor I've ever met."

"Oh you mean Lennox MacDuff. He's an old college friend of mine and your father's. He telephoned me several days ago asking to see the book you found. He said it would help him to prove something or other the connection was not the best."

Marcus smiled at Indiana and began to walk away when Indy called him back, "Marcus! Look the book is burning!"

"Oh dear." Marcus sighed

Indiana Jones was furious. He paced up and down the hall like a lion in a cage. Marcus was torn between watching Indy and watching the door.

"Indy…" Marcus began

Indiana whirled and exploded, "It _**had **_to be him Marcus! It had to be that MacDuff guy. I don't care if you and Dad knew him in school it had to be him. Thank heavens I managed to save the last couple of pages."

"But Indiana it just couldn't be Lennox he has too much respect for books to do that. I mean he's got a first edition of the Scottish play and many other rare books. I don't believe he would've done that."

Indy could see that nothing he said would change Marcus' mind. Marcus refused to believe evil of his old school pal. At least he could get his directions if the stupid fools in the lab would release them back to Marcus.

_**Two hours later…**_

At last he was on the plane for Brazil. He wanted to shoot all lab technicians those slimy little geeks hadn't wanted to let Marcus have the pages especially once they realized Marcus was going to let him handle the pages. Like the stupid fire had been his fault! What till he found that MacDuff character again. Odd name though MacDuff in Gaelic it meant son of Duff or son of the dark. One of the characters in the play was named MacDuff. Oddly enough the real Lady Macbeth had had a cousin with the same name. This was way too weird. Snap out of it Indy! He thought to himself. Focus on what you're after but his mind wouldn't listen he kept remembering all the stories he'd read growing up about knights and chivalry. He always imagined Macbeth as an honorable man he looked at the picture he'd made of the Moray sigil in his notebook. What he saw was a dragon holding a sword it was surrounded by a circle that looked like a common leather belt. On the top of the belt was written in Latin Conjuncta virtui fourtuna. Or in common English Fortune joined to bravery. He had to chuckle that motto seemed to favor his own line of work. He'd always admired Macbeth he had made a hero of the man despite the ill repute of the character in Shakespeare's play. He had a huge amount of respect for the man who had done what he had to do to save his people from a crazy idiot. He snorted some people nowadays could learn a thing or two from Macbeth. One thing he couldn't understand is how a Scottish artifact ended up in South America. It would have been more logical to him for it to have ended up North America but Brazil? Oh well he'd hopefully figure it out when he landed which he hoped he was doing soon.

_Meanwhile…_

His plane had landed several hours ago but he forgotten about the blasted tendency of these people to take naps in the afternoon. It was bloody annoying. He sighed at least he didn't have to arrange the usual muddle with guides and bearers and all that muck. It would make his arrival and departure more memorable but then he already knew Marcus would have Henry's son go after the sigil. He'd done a quick tour of the museum's Celtic collection and seen many things that he'd remembered from his other life but Macbeth Ard Ri of Alba was gone but the sigil of Moray would be his he wouldn't let that sit in a museum and rot. He was trying to remember exactly how he'd lost it in the first place. It couldn't have been when Canmore had struck him. No he'd lost it before then the battle for the gate that had to be it and one of his men must have picked up as a memento of their lord. For that at least he was grateful. When he'd realized he'd lost it he had searched museums all over England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland and he'd even gone as far a field as France looking but to no avail until now. He smiled and started toward the river he could hear in the distance the directions had said to cross a river and look for a stone Jaguar.

_Back in the town…_

Indy smiled at least he'd missed the siesta hour. He should be able to find out some information and gather his supplies and hopefully find a local guide. As he was gathering supplies he asked the shop owners if another gringo a big man had been through recently buying similar items. The man shook his head and wouldn't answer but that didn't stop his wife, "Si, senor a man like you describe he come through here when siesta was not quite over he was angry that we were not available for business when my husband opened the shop he came in immediately and began picking up things like you buy now. But one thing senor this man he take no guides as you do, he go alone. You stay away from him senor he loco."

Indy looked at the husband but the husband continued to look away and left all the business to his wife. He sighed that was odd that MacDuff took no guide or anything else. Was he crazy? He shook his head it didn't matter at least he knew his rival wasn't too far ahead of him. He stepped outside and looked up and sighed again he wouldn't be leaving this town tonight he'd have to wait for morning and hopefully MacDuff would do the same.

_In the jungle…_

Macbeth kept moving, his night vision was better than most and he wasn't afraid of any of the animals here and if there were Gargoyles here he had no real fear or dislike of them he was only reclaiming his own property after all they would hopefully respect that. If he met any and he hoped he wouldn't. He still remembered Demona. He'd been following the river for a good while the ground was starting to get hilly and the moon should be coming up soon. The reason he kept moving was mostly because he knew of Henry's son's formidable reputation as a treasure hunter and he remembered Henry telling him in a letter how much his son had idolized Macbeth not knowing of course that Lennox MacDuff was the same person. Ah yes, the moon had risen and now he could see the ground around him and to his right he saw eyes flash in the sudden moonlight it was a jaguar but as soon as the cat caught him looking it disappeared deeper into the dark. He smiled for he had found the stone jaguar. It was a rock that looked very much like a jaguar drinking from the river. After the jaguar, he was supposed to look for the temple entrance the book had mentioned something about a skywalk. He would have to camp and wait for daylight no sense in falling off a cliff, but it would be prudent to move a little further from the stone cat if Henry's son deserved any of his reputation he would champing at the bit come daybreak. While waiting he started thinking about why he was doing this. It wasn't that he was questioning his right to the Sigil but why he was out here risking injury and possible imprisonment for robbing native temples even if the artifact in the temple was his personal property. He sat listening to the river and the animals moving in the jungle composing himself for sleep if possible and still pondering the question he had asked himself why? He supposed it was because of his father. Even though he was far older than he father ever thought he would be he still loved, respected and missed his father. He'd been thirteen when his father had been murdered by the Hunter on orders from the King. While he remembered chess lessons, sword lessons, lessons on ruling there had also been times when his father had taken him hunting or fishing, those he missed. He'd also missed seeing his father's face at his crowning he'd worn the sigil then because it had been proper to but also as way to keep his father close.

There had been many things in the museum that had once been his but they could be let go. If he really forced himself he could let go of the sigil as well, but he wouldn't it was a tie to his father a physical thing and not just memory. And after this time it would be good to have the sigil itself and not his memory of it. There had been a time in Venice where he had had a goldsmith make a copy of the sigil. At the time he hadn't been sure why he did it but now that moment of wistfulness could be put to use. He smiled and closed his eyes for a couple hours of sleep, dreaming of Scotland and home.

_Back in town…_

Indy thought the night would never end. He was impatient to be off. He knew MacDuff was ahead of him but he didn't know by how much and he was unsure how far the man could have gotten in the limited amount of time that he'd had last night. He packed his gear paying special attention to his pistol and his whip. He had no idea if MacDuff was armed or not but there was no way he was going to be caught unarmed by someone clever enough to use powdered phosphorous mixed with whatever else to cause the book to burn like that. He had admit a sort of grudging respect for a man who would destroy something as precious as that book had been to protect what it lead to but the real question was why did MacDuff do it? According to Marcus, the Lennox MacDuff that he knew had too much respect for books to deliberately set one on fire so either he didn't do like Marcus said or there was another reason for the book to have caught on fire. He'd worry about it later if there was time his guide and bearers should be ready by now.

_In the forest… _

Skywalk? That was a slight understatement; this had to be to at least five miles long as the Americans put mileage. Oh well, in the words of one of their film actors, "Five miles is just a good stretch of the legs." And he'd better get moving, good thing he had a head for heights. He wondered how the famous Dr. Jones would deal with this. He kept moving forward not giving the starting point another look he was thinking back to the book the pages had felt gritty and smelled like matches he'd begun to suspect the book itself was booby trapped. He supposed he could have mentioned it to the impudent runner but he hadn't lied he was late so he hadn't he wondered what had happened to the book. Oh well it didn't matter much. The temple was next and he was pretty sure the real adventure would start there.

_At the Stone Jaguar… _

Well this wasn't too hard this was barely half a mile from the town. If the rest of this adventure was this easy he'd be back in the museum two days earlier he might actually get some term papers graded for once. Well, the next thing was the skywalk. He was uneasy about that but then he saw tracks leading away from the stone cat. It had to be MacDuff.

"Hey senor! Look here!" the guide was calling him

"What is it?" Indy asked not liking the looks on the guide of the bearers' faces.

"Jaguar tracks senor. The cat it was tracking the other man. He's gone senor."

"What are you talking about? I've seen the man if the jaguar attacked it'd have a hard time taking MacDuff down. Let's get moving. He's already halfway across."

"If you go senor you go on your own. When the jaguar tracks you it is not good. It means death. We want our money."

"Well then you've got to sell the burro and the supplies to get your money because I don't have it."

"Then that's what we do senor. You follow the big man you follow death." And with that they turned and walked away.

Great. Just perfect he hadn't counted on them doing that. He hoped this wouldn't take too long or he was going to be really hungry. Follow the big man and you follow death melodramatic crap. It was the only way to go if he wanted to get paid so he'd follow the big man.

_Meanwhile…_

Half of the skywalk down and he didn't feel too bad. Thank goodness he had boiled some of the water before leaving the river. He stopped to take a drink and felt the bridge move ah Henry's son at last. And by the feel of things all alone. Now it became more interesting.

Indy watched as MacDuff stopped and took a drink of water. He was amazed that the man chose to come by himself. Of course hiring a guide and all that jazz hadn't done him much good but MacDuff must have a high opinion of himself to come by himself. There was a saying about pride and let's hope MacDuff remembers it, Indy smirked.

At last he'd reached the temple. That last bit was quite tough Macbeth had to admit. The temple or what was left of it was beautiful. It was not like the Aztec or Mayan ruins in fact if he had to guess he would have said it was like ruins he had seen in what used to be Gaul but Romanized slightly. He heard footsteps behind him and slight wheezing.

"Ah Dr. Jones how nice of ye to catch me up."

"You! You set that book on fire!"

"No I didn't as I believe Marcus would have told you I do not do things like that to books. I like them too much."

"Well how did it happen then?"

"You have a brain and a nose Dr. Jones and hopefully a good memory now that the book is gone. Use them."

And with that Parthian shot MacDuff walked into the temple.

Indy stood staring open-mouthed for a few minutes and then hurried after MacDuff.

Once inside the temple Macbeth looked around it wouldn't take Junior too long to follow him in so he needed to mark the trouble spots and move around them quick. Ah, there was one near the dais. He knew there had to be more than just the one but that one was pretty big. He began picking his way across the floor watching for discolorations or oddities that would mean traps.

Indy came in to find MacDuff halfway ahead of him again. How does he do that? Indy wondered to himself he's at least two feet and some inches taller than me but he moves like a cat and he's fast for such a brick wall. He began to follow MacDuff's path because he saw that he'd chosen correctly path wise at least. He was surprised when MacDuff stopped in front of the dais looking carefully around.

"Studying the lay of the land?" Indy asked

"Aye genius, and so you should to if you hope to get the sigil before me." MacDuff replied

"Given up hiding the fact you're from Scotland, huh?"

"I dinnae recall ever denying that I was from Scotland you gowk."

"My dad is Scottish I know what that word means you know."

"I dinnae care what you know or don't know. You're in the way."

And with that Macduff moved carefully up onto the dais. Indy began to study the dais as MacDuff had done and when he moved he realized as the floor began to shake he'd missed something.

"You really are a fool boy." MacDuff yelled as they both fell into the huge hole.

"Ugh! What happened?"

"You didn't read the book closely enough idiot boy. "came a voice from the dark

"Why are we sitting here in the dark didn't you light a fire?"

"Oh yes light a fire and perhaps burn up all the air there is in this hole. Use your head for something besides a doorknocker boy. It's only a few more hours till sunrise anyway and hopefully that will give us a little more light to see what maybe. And I wouldn't move if I were you I heard something crack when you landed and I know it wasn't your head."

A muffled curse was the response.

"Ye just don't listen do ye boy? Just like your old man. He wouldn't listen to me either. When we went cave exploring in Wales one holiday and he paid with two broken legs that trip. Had Marcus waiting on him hand and foot. Now by the sound of things we've broken your hand so to avoid any falling into anymore holes or setting off anymore traps just sit bloody still until sunrise."

"Tell me a story."

"Aren't you a little old for story time?" MacDuff chuckled

"Well as you pointed out there's nothing else to do. So tell me a story."

"What do you want to hear?"

"Something about Macbeth."

"Why has Macbeth interested you?"

"The more important question would be when he has not interested me. I've always liked reading about him although I've never devoted serious study to him because that time period is more my father's work than mine."

"And why do dislike your father?"

"Dislike my father? Do I dislike him? I don't really know."

"You distance yourself from his area of expertise that would signal something is wrong."

"Ok maybe there is something there but that's not your business. What about your father?"

"My father? My father was a good man. He took good care of me and his people until he was murdered. I still miss him even after all these years."

"Your father was murdered? Who killed him?"

"A professional assassin. With the help of a friend I killed him. So that debt was paid."

"Don't they put you into prison if you kill other people?"

"They have to catch you first."

"So did you still want a story or have I scared you?"

"What do you know about Macbeth and gargoyles?"

MacDuff snorted, "That's a longer story than we have time for but I'll tell you a little."

And so they sat Indy listening spellbound to the older man's voice as he wove his tale of tragedy, friendship and betrayal. The sun coming in great big streamers put a stop to the tale.

"Wow! If you ever decide to give up whatever is you do you'd make a great storyteller."

"My father could have done a better job he had a real bard's gift?"

"Don't sell yourself short, MacDuff you've got a real gift for making the past come alive. My dad should have taken notes from you."

MacDuff laughed out loud and said, "Ah yes, your da never could make a story interesting. He always went off rabbit trails about how the armor was made or such things like that."

"Yeah that sounds like Dad. So to change the subject how are we going to get out of here?"

"That's simple each of us climbs up one side of this hole and carefully moves the stones out of the way till we can climb out."

"Easy for you. You've still got two good hands."

"Ah yes. Let me see that."

Indy was surprised at the gentleness in the big man's touch he gently pushed the bones back into place ignoring Indy's cursing and wrapped the hand.

"Now smarty keep that as stationary as possible."

"Where did you learn to do that?"

Indy was surprised at the sadness that passed over the man's face, "You learn what you have to in war."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up painful memories."

"It's no matter. Sometimes I think all I have are painful memories. Now let's get started."

And they began climbing; Indy was amazed that MacDuff was keeping pace with him and not getting to far ahead.

"I'm not a complete invalid you know." Indy huffed

"Of course not laddie. Of course not. Race you to the top."

"Like I'm going to win that." Indy grumped

"You dinnae know until ye try."

And they began anew. Indy moving as fast as his hand would let him he had no time to wonder where MacDuff was he was more concerned with getting to the top. When he did so he wasn't too surprised to find MacDuff there ahead of him.

"I know, I know, you've had more practice." Indy said

"Ye learn fast. Who knows you might just win the prize." MacDuff said softly pointing up

When Indy looked he stared and then cursed.

"Language boy. What would your mother say?"

Indy felt that rebuke after all this man had probably known his mother.

What he had seen was the sigil hanging from a stone altar from the ceiling.

"Ok how did they do that?"

"Mirrors boy. They used highly polished silver disks for mirrors. Race you to the top."

Indy grinned and thought "Not this time old man." He grabbed a vine and started climbing, wincing a little as his hand reminded him that he shouldn't be doing stuff like this. But he got a better hold on the vine and instead of climbing up he swung out aiming for MacDuff he hit him and caused the man to fall back onto a rocky outcropping, Indy smiled as he heard what he supposed was Gaelic cursing coming from below him. He called back over his shoulder, "Language. What would your mother say?"

He was almost at the top and reaching for the sigil when he had the brick wall feeling again. He slipped down a few feet looking up he saw MacDuff grab the sigil and begin sliding down the vine. Indy also began descending but he felt the temple began to shake again.

"Something else you forgot old man." He called out "Place like this are trapped and some of them go off after you get the prize."

"I didn't forget. I knew the trap would go off but I think that this place has served its purpose and you'd better move faster if you don't want to become a permanent resident."

When both men reached the bottom. Indy moved fast and landed a punch on the older man's jaw. MacDuff took the hit and gave as well as he received. Indy was seeing stars and then he realized he was also falling. As he was falling he heard a jaguar's hunting call below he also realized he wasn't falling anymore puzzled by this he looked up and saw that MacDuff had grabbed him and was pulling him back up with the same hand that held the sigil.

"Come on now Junior. A jaguar's belly is no place for you."

"Don't call me Junior!"

MacDuff's only answer was a snort.

When they made outside they were surprised to find themselves faced with Indy's former guide and bearers. "Well senor, I see you made it, but you should have listened the big man is shadowed by death." The guide pulled a gun and shot MacDuff. MacDuff fell still gripping the sigil. Indy was stunned. "Am I next?" he asked

"No senor. Not unless you also want the sigil."

"And if I say yes."

"Then you die."

"Throw the big man down the hole. The cat will be glad to have something to eat."

"Leave him. He got the sigil down for you. He at least deserves better than to be eaten by a jaguar." Indy retorted angrily

"You may be right senor. But you I'm afraid if you move your hand another inch you will feed the cat. Tie him up and bring him along. Do as he says and leave the dead."

Indy looked back at MacDuff it wasn't fair the old man had worked so hard for the sigil and to die like that. It was like the story the old man had told him about Macbeth. Indy was shoved hard in the back he fell on his broken hand and screamed he couldn't help it.

"Idiot!" the guide hissed, "He makes another noise like that I'll kill you myself."

"Sorry boss." The peon mumbled

Indy tried to look back again but the peon wouldn't let him. He was propelled all the way across the rope bridge and taken not back towards the city but upriver away from the city. "Great," Indy thought, "Just what I needed murderers, thieves and kidnappers. Can I pick winners or what?"

He soon lost track of where he was he felt lousy it was probably the river he'd fallen in or something bad. What was wrong with him? When the bandits stopped for the night he was grateful he couldn't have gone any further.

"I think we gonna have to kill him boss." One of the other bandits murmured "He's in bad shape."

"We wait till we get close to the next city then we dump him."

"I dinnae think so you bloody thief." Came a quiet voice with a Scottish burr

"You're dead. I shoot you." The boss bandit whimpered

"Now that's where you'd be wrong. I'm not dead, but you will be and all these idiots with you."

Indiana could never remember what happened afterwards but when he woke he found himself in a hospital run by nuns who had a note for him which read, "A prize is never worth winning unless you've suffered for it boy. Your friend Macbeth." And with the note was the sigil. Indy reread the note and thought back to another cave where an old man had told him a story. Could it have been the real Macbeth? He asked the nuns about who had brought him in but all they could tell him was that a man had brought him and wouldn't stay beyond having a small meal. He sighed now he'd never know the truth.

But he had the sigil.

_Meanwhile on another airplane…_

Macbeth smiled. He had his father's seal back again. Henry's boy would have to live a lot longer to get the better of him. He knew that Venetian copy would come in handy. The boy wouldn't suffer too much it was about the same age as the original that's if those morons actually tested it but if they couldn't move one horseshoe from the floor or realize that a books pages had been treated with phosphorous then he highly doubted they would test, silly Americans.


End file.
